


Blindfold

by OrangeyApples



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Reincarnate au, Zeus is an asshole, new york city is a jungle out there yall, night life au, this aesthetic is red af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeyApples/pseuds/OrangeyApples
Summary: Deja vu is a funny thing.  It's even funnier when you feel it in a stranger's smile.  A story about being blinded by butterflies.Alternate title: there is not enough kuroyama in the world.





	1. Pink streets

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is a long term project that I'm pretty excited about. I just recently fell in love with this ship and thought they deserved a nice little au that's full of heart-wrenching and soul-brightening moments. So, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter!

The only thing remotely innocent about New York City at night would probably be the neon lights. They're the easiest thing to notice from a distance, after all. Bright, oversaturated lights shining above the grime of the streets are easy to separate from the reality of the situation. The rain even seemed to glimmer a different hue. A helpless tourist could easily mistake them as flashy directions to the enchanting world of downtown NYC. Really, though, it was all just false advertisement.

 

A tacky shade of fuchsia spilled onto the streets below, making the puddles of rainwater glow with an ethereal pink. The color drenched the figure of Kuroo Tetsturo too, sticking to a leather jacket and dark jeans. It was weird, being cast in such a warm light. Warmer bodies beckoned him inside another world of pink lights as he passed the doorway below the sign, but he merely slipped through professionally lustful fingers with a grin. He wasn't a stranger to a night in such warm company, but those girls in particular were off limits for him. Besides, he wasn't looking for company tonight.

 

He wasn't sure what exactly he WAS looking for tonight, honestly. For the first time his schedule was actually free. He was, more or less, wandering aimlessly through the streets he knew so well, looking for something new. Life as the top rat -- or cat, in Tetsuro's case -- was actually pretty boring at times. Eventually you grew tired of the city's cutthroat version of entertainment. It just wasn't original anymore, you know?

 

Passing by an alleyway, the faint sounds of the start of a fight echoed in his ears. Tetsuro gave the spectacle a mere glance before continuing on. It wouldn't be the first fight of the night, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

 

...wait.

 

Carefully he retraced his steps, glancing back at the scene. Something seemed a little too familiar, but he wasn't sure what exactly that something was. The unfairness of a three on one mugging? The glint of familiar studded leather jackets that adorned the hungry Hounds, eager for any excuse to rip into any fresh meat they found?

 

Maybe it was the way the poor kid's circular wire glasses glinted rose as they fell to the ground with a particularly rough shake from his current attacker. Tetsuro regarded the set as they slid to his feet. Carefully he plucked them from the grimy back street ground, carefully cleaning them as he walked closer to the commotion.

 

"...really think this is enough to take pictures of my girls?" The familiar growl of Oikawa Tooru's voice reached his ears as he yanked the shivering tourist's lanyard. Some sort of identification, maybe? The motion jolted the other's chin back, pink light glittering in eyes wide and terrified. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you'll have to pay just like everyone else."

 

Typical Hound, Tetsuro mused to himself. Oikawa had a particular pride for his whores, and an infatuation with the lifestyle his dirty money had bought him. Put the two together and you got a pretty stingy character with a temper.

 

"I just -- n, needed something for ---"

 

"The highest bidder?" Oikawa's cruel bark of a laugh cut off the choked explanation. "Weasels like you never get any smarter. You know what we do with weasels around here?" Behind him, one of his two henchmen -- wasn't his name Kyoutani? -- stepped forward with a snarl. "We throw them to the h---"

 

"Now now, that's enough of that."

 

The sound of Kuroo Tetsuro's voice was still enough to bring a scowl to any member of the opposing gang. He reveled in the change of expression with a perpetually crooked grin as he stepped out of the shadows. There was a practiced confident swagger in his walk as he approached the group.

 

"You know this isn't your territory," Oikawa snapped, letting go of the kid to face the cat. Tetsuro took the time to get a good look at the poor guy. Wet brown hair clung to a face that looked far too innocent for New York City, something even an idiot could read in the splattering of freckles and wide brown eyes wide with fear and -- appreciation? Something else seemed to sparkle in them, which was enough to make Tetsuro wrap his arm around the brunette before he could really think about it.

 

"Sorry about that," he said, voice ever so buttery smooth. "I was actually looking for this one. He's supposed to be getting us more high-end customers. New recruits, am I right? They try their best, but they always end up losing their way."

 

He accentuated this bit with a drawn out sigh and a shake of his head. Looking down, he could see the kid staring at him still, which prompted a tiny smile and wink. A code for 'just follow my lead'. Thankfully it didn't take long for the other to catch on, mouth finally snapping shut to nod at the trio of Hounds. Oikawa crossed his arms at the response, as if he was considering buying it or not.

 

"Well," he said finally, "make sure he erases those photos off his camera there. We don't run a charity here, you know."

 

"Don't worry, your girls will still be a perfect secret." Tetsuro made sure to keep the exasperation out of his voice at this point. He gave the kid's shoulder a soft tap as he began walking towards the street. "Now if you'll excuse us..."

 

He allowed a few steps of silence before offering his 'new recruit' the glasses he'd picked up. "Thought you might like these. Don't look back at them," he murmured when he noticed the brunette trying to glance over his shoulder. "They'll probably send someone to follow us for a few blocks, just to see we leave. Keep it cool, yeah?"

 

Once more he got a nod from the boy. He felt a little tense under Tetsuro's shoulder, something he couldn't blame him for. At the least he'd just been mugged, and probably left for dead in the outskirts of the city if the cat hadn't stepped in when he did. For a while his tongue would probably be frozen with shock. Normally he'd let it thaw somewhere else and let the boy go his merry way but...

 

...there was something familiar that made him want to stay a little longer.

 

"My name's Kuroo Tetsuro, by the way," he said, voice still soft as they turned a corner. Something seemed to light up in the other's brown eyes --- probably stories about a notorious drug lord --- as he glanced up at the other. Something about the innocently mute awe in his gaze made the cat inclined to grin again, pinching the other's shoulder gently.

 

"Now, let's get you something to eat, eh, new recruit?"

 

\---

 

"So...you're actually a photographer?" Tetsuro glanced up at the boy in front of him, ID card held up for comparison. Said photographer looked significantly different in the picture. The same features, yes, but the bundle of nervous excitement --- a common side effect of any first day --- was painted in the dimples of the impossibly large smile he wore. The person in front of him was...significantly less enthusiastic. That and really, really wet.

 

The freckled boy nodded, hesitation apparent in the way he cleared his throat. "Well, um...I'm technically a journalist. But I have to get the pictures for my stories myself. No one else is here to take them, after all."

 

"So you really were snapping shots of those girls." Tetsuro crossed his arms, giving a chastising click of his tongue as he shook his head. His amusement betrayed itself, though, with the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Such a naughty little boy, Yamaguchi Tadashi. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

 

Tadashi's cheeks turned an embarrassed --- or was it indignant? --- shade of red in response, making the cat chuckle. It had taken a warm meal to thaw the freckled journalist's tongue, which made Tetsuro grateful for the somewhat decent relationship he'd kept up with the owner of the place. He glanced over at the man in question, who was washing dishes with a sour look fixed in their direction. The scowl etched further into his wrinkly old face as the drug lord gave him a soft wiggle of his fingers. It would be easier to close without the two of them coming in so late, but this was a favor Tetsuro was cashing in. So far he wasn't regretting it as the freckled journalist went off on a nervous ramble.

 

"I s-swear I wasn't going to, u-um, sell them or anything! I was hoping to interview some of the girls too -- m-maybe, two or three but -- well...at that point I got caught, and...well," Tadashi finished, eyes averting with a meek scratch at his chin, "you know what happened after that." Brown eyes flickered back up at Tetsuro and the kid sat straight again. "I only went in there for a story, though, promise! It was going to show how inglorious a life like that was, and humanize the girls that everyone objectifies and...yeah."

 

Ah, there it was. Tetsuro had caught sight of a glimmer of a good soul, something that didn't really surprise him. Honestly, everything about Tadashi just screamed innocent, clueless new addition to this world of back alleys and questionable characters. A pretty cute new addition, but still clueless. As the journalist trailed off again, sinking in his chair, Tetsuro leaned forward curiously.

 

"Let me ask you a question, Tadashi. How many times have you traveled for a story before this?"

 

"Well, um..." The freckled journalist seemed to grow even smaller in his seat. "This is...my first one. I've only ever done fluff pieces before this, where I was just covering local news...but any paper would be stupid if they didn't try to cover the stuff in NYC, right? So this is us, trying to get a different angle on things."

 

"By sending in a greenhorn like yourself," observed the drug lord. "Ingenious move." 

 

The wince that Tetsuro got in response almost made him want to eat his words along with the bread roll he was disassembling. "Yeah, you could say I'm...not the first choice. I'm the one who got it in the end, though! So I'm going to make sure that...this wasn't a mistake."

 

"Is that ambition I hear in your tone?" Tetsuro raised an eyebrow at the change in Tadashi's tone. "Or a need to prove yourself, at least? Those aren't terrible traits for a new recruit." He grinned at the reaction he got from the freckled journalist, which consisted of a frightened jolt followed by a politely nervous chuckle.

 

"I'm flattered, but uh, I have to decline. I already have a job," the freckled boy said, tapping his identification card for emphasis. Before Tetsuro could even pull a dejected pout he was met with a tilted head and a question that surprised him. "If you don't mind me asking, though, what exactly do you do for a living...?"

 

A hum preceded Tetsuro's answer as he leaned back in his seat again. Red flags had started to pop up in his mind. The media was a bit of a foreign problem to him, but he was sure this was one that could be easily fixed. With someone like this, it probably wouldn't be too hard to throw him off the scent. He just had to count on the fact that someone so fresh off the block wouldn't be able to pick up on the stench in the backstreets. It's not like New York City was lacking in dirt for a good story; it couldn't be too hard to find something mild for the kid to write about. Dreams would be achieved, businesses would be kept safe...

 

...hell, Tetsuro would even be able to keep this cute little thing around a little longer.

 

"Well," he finally said after a few moments of silence, "if you don't already know...let's just say that I know half the NYPD on a first-name basis." Tetsuro tapped the side of his nose with a wink. "I'm sure you can infer the rest, yeah? You seem to be more than a pretty face."

 

It was so easy to derail this kid, good Lord. Maybe it was a little unfair, but he liked how Tadashi's freckles stood out against the pink blush of his cheeks as he blinked at the unexpected compliment. He was back on track though as he cleared his throat with an idle hand adjusting damp brown hair.

 

"Judging by the way the Hounds were looking at you, I'm...not sure if that's a good or bad thing."

 

"Depends on your definitions of the words, doesn't it?"

 

"What do you know about the Hounds, then?" Tadashi tried. "You seemed to be acquainted at the very least."

 

"You know, I'm getting the feeling that you jumped into this project completely and utterly blind." With a yawn and a stretch, Tetsuro stood up. "And I am totally wiped out from today. How about I get you a safe place to sleep, and we can pick this up tomorrow? When we don't have dog attacks fresh on our minds. I'll even show you some things you couldn't even see with the fanciest of press passes."

 

"Really? Wait, you mean--" Abruptly Tadashi stood up after blinking the stars from his eyes. "You'd actually find me a story?"

 

"Mhmm. I'll even let you take the credit," the drug lord added. He fished out a couple of twenties from his wallet to pay for dinner with another glance at the owner. The look he got back threatened to shoo the pair out with a broom and foul words if they lingered any longer, so Tetsuro gently pushed the astounded journalist towards the door. "Not like I need the press, anyways. Speaking of, I do have two conditions for this."

 

Tadashi nodded vigorously as he pulled his coat back on. The fabric was still a little damp, but he seemed warm enough judging by how the thing seemed to swallow him. "Of course! Anything." The eager excitement in the freckled boy's eyes took Tetsuro by surprise. He had to brush off the feeling of deja vu as he grabbed an umbrella by the door (not his, but he'd return it eventually).

 

"Well," he began, swallowing down butterflies, "first, you'll have to call me an anonymous source. Or at least change my name. Like I said, I don't need the press or anything."

 

"Of course." Another solemn nod followed before a curious silence. "And, uh, the second condition...?"

 

Tetsuro couldn't help but grin at his new favorite journalist. He popped the umbrella open as he stepped outside.

 

"Before we do anything, you first gotta grab a coffee with me in the morning."


	2. Normal Coffee Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yamaguchi meets more cats & one gets out of the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hi there beginning of an actually stable update schedule! I'm usually pretty bad with consistency but a week seems to work for me. Here's chapter two, without further ado!

Yamaguchi Tadashi woke up the next day with the taste of an unfamiliar dream in his mouth. Visions of snarling gangsters still lingered in his mind, and the strangely familiar cinnamon scent left an imprint with him as he sat up in an unfamiliar bed. He stared at the window across from him while his thoughts took their time returning to him. The red curtains looked a little different in the daytime, contrasting from the crimson glow he'd seen when he woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare still in the back of his throat.

 

Honestly, the red of everything made the place so...moody.

 

Tetsuro had called the studio apartment one of his 'hideaways' when he'd opened the door for Tadashi. While the name tickled the journalist's sense of worry, he couldn't deny that the place felt very much like his new friend. Red seemed to suit him well, and everything felt high-end without being too conspicuous. Simple, but tasteful, mused the freckled boy as he took his wire glasses from the sleek black and red nightstand.

 

When the world finally came into focus, Tadashi stood up with a finger-curling stretch. The wooden floor was cold under his feet as he walked to the window to pull back the crimson curtains. Beyond the glass, New York City bustled on in the sunlight. It was so much different, the journalist noticed, in the daytime. Neon lights that lit up the crowded streets at night were now lifeless grey structures that stood out against the bright sky. It made last night feel even more like a dream, honestly. 

 

A dream with a prince, coming to save the day...

 

Tadashi frowned to himself as he leaned against the windowsill. No, that didn't quite fit. Sure, Tetsuro saved the day, but he felt different from a royal stranger. For one thing, the journalist could swear he'd seen his face somewhere before. See, Tadashi didn't forget a face, he just...had a tough time remembering where he'd seen said face before. Or where he'd felt that strong but sturdy touch in those hands...or where he'd felt such a firm but warm torso by his side...did he have familiar abs too? Or maybe --

 

_Okay wow that's enough gay fantasies for now._

 

The thoughts were abruptly shut off with a shake of the journalist's head. He slapped his hands over burning cheeks, having to close his eyes. After a cold shower, full of the scariest things he could think of -- this mostly consisted of his editor's backhanded threats if the project fell through -- Tadashi stepped back out with a clear head and a towel wrapped around his waist.

 

The closet was surprisingly full of clothes when he checked, out of curiosity. Stylish vests and skirts alike were thoughtfully sorted on the rack, the colors matching the scheme of the room. He really liked red, huh...? How many people did he bring here, anyways?

 

"Oh, oh, choose that one! It's super classy."

 

The unfamiliar voice just over Tadashi's shoulder drew a surprised squawk from his lips. An excited bean pole of a man -- no, he felt more like a boy -- loomed over him, adorned with lively green eyes and silver hair.

 

"How'd you get in here?" the journalist finally asked after catching his breath. The hand that had been rubbing the arm of a leather jacket was now securely clutching his towel. Had it gotten colder?

 

"What? I came in through the door-"

 

"Lev you fucking idiot, did you just forget what knocking was?" What sounded like a steel-toed boot connected with the kid's side, making him stumble with a whiny 'ow!'. His light haired companion was significantly shorter, but Tadashi could feel an intimidating air exuding from him as he glowered at Lev.

 

"Keys."

 

The keychain -- Tadashi noticed a silver K on the charm -- clinked a little in the shorter male's hand as Lev handed it over reluctantly. "Just because you have them doesn't mean you can forget basic human decency." After pocketing what the journalist assumed was the apartment key, brown eyes returned to the freckled guest. "Sorry about Lev. He's only been with us for a month but he still acts like it's his first day. I'm Yaku, his babysitter."

 

"Oh," said Tadashi, trying to act like being walked in on in just a towel was as normal as these two were making it sound. "I suppose you two, ah, work for Kuroo...?"

 

"Yep! He told us to come escort you," Lev chirped. He seemed to be doing fine, considering the bruise he'd be sporting on his side now. "We came here to escort you to the coffee shop!!"

 

That sounded a little more sinister than the journalist would like. He glanced over at Yaku, who seemed to be -- sizing him up?

 

"Any reason why Kuroo couldn't take me himself?"

 

"The boss does his best not to be seen around this address," Yaku said. "Let's just say the less people who know he's here, the better."

 

"Yeah! You never know who's a snitch around here. Though, you seem to be a guy who knows how to keep his mouth shut." Lev propped his chin in his palm with a grin. "Besides, you wouldn't dream of snitching if you know what the Big Cats do t--"

 

Yaku sent a sharp elbow to the side of Lev's head, interrupting the sentence effectively. "That's enough of that," chided the man, though it was too little too late for Tadashi. The supposed humbleness of an anonymous source last night, the nice hideaway of an apartment...his dear prince was starting to seem a little less pure of intentions than what the journalist had first pegged him to be. 

 

The thought process must've registered across Tadashi's face before he could pretend like he hadn't heard Lev's slip up, judging by the way Yaku gave his bare arm a little pat.

 

"Just...try not to think about it too much," was all the shorter male could offer. "C'mon, Lev; let's give him some privacy to change, yeah?"

 

"Kay!"

 

Tadashi watched as the pair left to wait in the hall outside, giving him space to breathe. Idly he wondered if he'd regret agreeing to this soon.

 

\---

 

The jacket was, surprisingly, a pretty nice fit. Tadashi couldn't help but rub the leather between his fingers again as he walked a ways behind his pair of chaperones. He hadn't had something like this in his closet before. The entire outfit made him feel...exponentially cooler? It was the mellowest look he could manage, yet it was still significantly different from what he usually wore.

 

"--do you think, Yamaguchi?"

 

The journalist looked up, surprised to hear his name. Lev was glancing back at him, pace slowing to bring him into the conversation.

 

"What?"

 

"Reincarnation!! Hear me out," pressed the silver boy as Yaku gave an exasperated groan. "What if --- what if, okay, every moment of deja vu is a memory of one of your past lives? Or in dreams! They could be warnings about something that went wrong before!"

 

"How about this for a warning: don't believe everything you read online." Yaku raised his eyebrows at Lev before punching the taller boy's arm. "And stop spewing nonsense in front of the new kid."

 

"It's alright, really," Tadashi said, hiding his chuckle with a soft cough. "I've heard a...lot of interesting things in my time as a journalist. You wouldn't believe how many paranormal enthusiasts you can find in a small town."

 

"Paranormal? Like ghosts?" Lev's green eyes lit up in excitement, marking the exact moment he'd launch off on another tangent. "Ghosts exist too! But they're not necessarily dead, more like souls that can't find a vessel--"

 

The ding of the bell above the door hardly went unnoticed to Tadashi as more half-baked conspiracies rattled off in his ear. He pushed his glasses up, looking around the coffee shop curiously. All of a sudden the background noise seemed to fade away, like someone had turned the volume down a few notches.

 

This was, of course, the moment Tadashi saw him. Sitting at a table in the back of the store was Kuroo Tetsuro. He seemed to be draped across the chair, one long leg resting across the other. It was like watching a cat bask in the afternoon sun. It was like wondering what exactly made him so confident in his belief that everything in this moment -- the comfy spot, the warm sunlight, the time itself -- all belonged to him.

 

It was also wondering how he could still look so cool in an old letterman jacket and...was that nyan cat on his shirt?

 

As if he could feel a scrutinizing gaze on his chest, Tetsuro looked up from his phone to lock eyes with Tadashi. The crooked smile he sent the journalist's way was enough to melt his heart into something unrecognizable as it oozed down into his stomach.

 

_Holy shit Tadashi, you're on a job, not a chick flick set._

 

"Glad you could make it in one piece." The teasing in Kuroo's tone seemed to match the way he stuffed his hands lazily in the pockets of his jeans. Or, no, it was how his hair still had that messy quality to it the next day. "These two kept those mangy mutts away from you, I hope?"

 

Mutts? Oh, he must be talking about the Hounds. "Well, yes; I wasn't expecting company when they showed up, though." That sounded better than being one modernly designed towel away from flashing his new friend's employees.

 

"Kuroo, Yamaguchi's seen ghosts in his hometown!"

 

"Really now?" Tetsuro gave the journalist an intrigued look. "Maybe he'll tell me over a nice cup of something warm?"

 

And just like that they were waiting in line together at a busy coffee shop. Tadashi craned his neck to scope out the menu for something familiar.

 

"Nice jacket." Brown eyes tore away from the menu to meet Tetsuro's own. Oh, right; he'd probably been there often enough to know the menu by heart. Something in Tadashi's chest fluttered at the compliment and he couldn't hide the smile itching at his lips.

 

"Thanks, I'm...pretty sure it's yours," said the journalist. "And I'm guessing you own that shirt too...?"

 

"This?" The taller male glanced down at his t-shirt. "Well, of course I do. Everyone needs at least one article of nyan cat clothing in their wardrobe!"

 

"Are you sure about that?"

 

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just insult the best cat in the history of pop culture in my presence," Tetsuro said as he feigned dignified offense. "Nyan cat is iconic!"

 

An exasperated but amused giggle left Tadashi as he shook his head. "Well, it suits you." And it really did. It was the right mix of casual and...childish? Very akin to a mischievous charm that engulfed his new friend. It didn't seem to fit the shady character that followed him around, though...

 

Oh, that's right. This was, most likely, the biggest drug lord in New York City, wasn't it? If Tadashi had heard Lev's slip-up correctly, and he was pretty sure that he had, he was on a coffee date with the most dangerous man in the city.

 

If that wasn't enough to withdraw the journalist -- and it certainly helped bring him back to reality for a moment -- he wasn't sure what would.

 

"Oh, look." The brunette rushed a change in conversation before Tetsuro could notice the hesitation that had washed over him. "They have peppermint white mocha here!"

 

The pair sat at the table Tetsuro had reserved for them a few minutes later, sipping at identical peppermint white mochas. Tadashi was enjoying the wintery flavor -- probably his favorite latte in the history of ever -- while he examined the grafitti'd photo of the Statue of Liberty on the wall beside them when he was quite literally snapped back into the conversation.

 

"Heeeelloo?" The journalist blinked at the fingers snapping in his direction. He immediately felt guilt warm his cheeks as he shrieked in his chair a little. "For a journalist, you're pretty quiet all of a sudden."

 

"Sorry," Tadashi said, nerves fluttering in his chest. "I guess I um...I don't know." Wow. That really cleared things up.

 

"Something's changed." It was a little jarring how quickly Tetsuro caught onto the shift. Or was it just that obvious? The journalist couldn't tell. He watched as the dark haired male leaned forward, something similar to concern knitted in his brow. "Everything good? Lev didn't touch you somewhere he wasn't supposed to, did he? Feel free to slap him when he does that. He means well, but...he's still an idiot."

 

"Nonono! It's, nothing like that, promise. I just..." Tadashi sighed. Was there an easy way to say this? It felt so...awkward. "I heard something this morning and it sort of, um...made all the pieces of the puzzle in my head click and...you're the leader of the Big Cats, aren't you? Like, THE Big Cat?"

 

The gaze Tadashi was met with sent an uncertain shiver down his spine. He watched as Tetsuro leaned forward, chin resting on his hands in an ominous sort of pose. The journalist felt himself freeze in his chair. Oh god oh god why did he say that? Why couldn't he just lie and say he got some news about a dying grandma that morning? Anything would be better than this!! They'd find his body scattered across New York City like a pathetic bread crumb trail of guts leading to nowhere!!

 

"Well," said the drug lord finally, tone ominous, "I guess the cat's out of the bag."

 

The terrible pun, combined with the curling grin growing on the other's face, was enough to make Tadashi burst into an absurdly loud laugh that filled the whole shop. He clapped his hands over his mouth, doubling over a little in his relief.

 

"That was a terrible time for a pun," said the journalist, feeling his pent up anxiety melt off of him in waves.

 

"That is not a thing that exists."

 

"Why didn't you tell me before? You know, like when you offered to show me the exclusive parts of underground NYC?" At this part Tadashi lowered his voice, trying to ignore all the eyes on him now.

 

Tetsuro lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "Didn't seem really important to me then. Not to mention I kinda thought, if I didn't tell you, you might not figure it out, but...turns out you're not just a pretty face."

 

"And you're not the first one to underestimate me," shot back Tadashi. He took a sip of his latte, trying not to ignore how his heart was fluttering again at the drug lord's impressed smirk.

 

"Guess that was my own fault, then. I think, if you made an exposé piece on me now, I'd probably deserve it. Hopefully my humblest apologies can begin to make it up to you."

 

Tadashi couldn't help but roll his eyes at the half-bow Tetsuro gave over the table. "Don't worry, I respect my anonymous sources. Your secret's safe with me." This was probably the course of action that would keep the journalist alive, after all, but something about betraying Tetsuro's trust felt wrong.

 

"Hmmm, you seem like a decent confidante." The taller male reached over to flick Tadashi's nose, kinda like a cat batting a toy around. "I'll enjoy having you around for a little bit. For now, though, let's just enjoy a totally normal coffee date."

 

"Yes," Tadashi agreed, unable to resist the warm smile growing on his face. "Totally normal."

 

And that was when Kuroo Tetsuro was yanked out of his seat by his jacket.


	3. Navy Blue Walls of Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugly things just add character.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer to update, but here's the next part to this fic! I'm kinda hoping to keep this alteration between pov going as long as I can, while fitting to the best narrative for certain parts of the fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! More characters are being introduced, which means I'll be updating the tags oops.

Kuroo Tetsuro was not a man who believed in fate. Coincidences, the drug lord thought, were just that; nothing special about them whatsoever. Combine that with the belief that nothing good in life would ever be just handed to you -- those were things you had to work for -- and you got yourself a pretty decent mindset for a booming business in narcotics.

 

However, fate that day had done him pretty dirty.

 

He was just about to return Tadashi's warm smile -- the boy could melt glaciers like that -- when he felt a pair of jarringly strong hands yank him out of his chair. A no-nonsense stare greeted him, sending a shiver up his spine. Of all the people to meet that day, it had to be this guy?

 

"Oikawa tells me you've been trespassing on Hound territory," said Ushijima Wakatoshi. Technically, the monster of a man gripping his jacket wasn't a member of the opposing gang; he was more like a very intimidating ally. To Tetsuro he was more of an irritant than anything.

 

"You called your guard dog? That's adorable." His gaze went to Oikawa, who bristled behind the other.

 

"Well, it's not like you'd listen to me anyways," the brunette sniffed, arms crossed. His pout twisted into a menacing grin. "So I thought I'd bring some persuasion. Get em, Ushiwaka-chan!"

 

Ushijima only gave a solemn nod in response. God, did this guy have any human qualities? At this point Lev and Yaku started approaching. It was a little difficult to take the newer recruit seriously as he slurped down the rest of his drink, green eyes watching attentively.

 

"Look," Tetsuro said, hands raising to his shoulders, "it's nice to see that someone actually cares about you, Oikawa -- really, it warms my cold little heart -- but this is a really bad time. If you couldn't tell, I'm in the middle of something."

 

Both Ushijima and Oikawa glanced over Tetsuro's shoulder at the table he'd been dragged from. The curious head tilt from the brute assaulting his jacket, combined with the sick delight lighting the Head Hound's eyes, made the drug lord look over his shoulder too. In his chair, Tadashi had been frozen in place. Tetsuro offered the journalist a grin, in hopes of thawing his nerves out a little. What else was there to do, other than grin and bear it?

 

"Perfect," he heard Oikawa say. The drug lord noticed the way Tadashi's eyes widened, which made him chuckle a little. This was going to look so fucking cool.

 

Tetsuro turned to look back at the pair, a witty remark on the tip of his tongue--

 

And that was when Ushijima's fist met his face.

 

The impact was enough to send Tetsuro spinning to the floor. He took a moment to lay there, sitting with the shock and the sting around his eye. Above him he heard a soft gasp and a desperate utter of his name, followed by the scrape of a chair and a snapping sound that struck a strange but angry chord in his stomach.

 

"Don't." The drug lord lifted a hand as he sat up, stopping Lev and Yaku in their tracks. "This just became personal." It was one thing for him to take a few punches, but Tadashi...something about the thought of someone laying hands on him made his blood boil.

 

Said journalist was sinking back into his seat, face hidden behind his hands. A pair of broken frames laid in front of his feet.

 

"Now look what you've done," Tetsuro chastised as he started to stand. "You just had to piss me off, didn't you? At the very least you should apologize--!"

 

The sentence seemed to dissolve in a frustrated sort of grunt as the cat lunged up, fist coming into contact with Ushijima's stomach in an uppercut. He could hear his knuckles crack against pure muscle. It had about as much effect as punching a brick wall, honestly. Before he could utter any sort of curse, though, he felt a swift knee to his stomach push the breath from his lungs with a wheeze. A firm hand grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him back up to his feet.

 

"We're...we're going somewhere?" Tetsuro panted once he finally got his breath back. "I would've packed a bag--"

 

The wall of the coffee shop was quick to meet him as Ushijima swung him around effortlessly. It was enough to leave the drug lord speechless again when the other finally let him go. His hand found the wall before his back settled against it. Okay, just a quick breather then he'd be good to go again--

 

The overwhelming scent of overpriced cologne made Tetsuro look up to gaze into Oikawa's disturbingly somber face.

 

"You come to my side of town again," he began, "and I'll be sure you get more than a black eye in front of your new boyfriend. Am I clear?"

 

"Crystal," said the drug lord, bearing his teeth in a pained grin.

 

"Good." And just like that the Head Hound took a step back, dusting his hands off. "You should probably find a better cafe, by the way. This one...it's got no taste." This was accentuated by a pretentious sort of scrunch of his nose.

 

"It's got character," was all Tetsuro said in response. As Oikawa hummed, the drug lord noticed Ushijima gathering the broken glasses around the table. Tadashi slowly looked up from what was left of his lenses to blink at the guard dog, who placed a few bills on the table.

 

"For your glasses," Ushijima explained. He gave the journalist a somber bow. "I apologize for breaking them."

 

"Oh, ah, no...it's..." Tadashi could only stare for a minute, gaze dropping to the money. "Alright," he finished lamely. It's not like Tetsuro could blame him; the way Ushijima could switch from a weapon of destruction back to a polite but intimidating citizen was an uncommon skill. The drug lord watched as cautious hands grabbed the money from the table. At least the journalist seemed to be unhurt.

 

Not like Tetsuro could say the same. He seemed to be ever more aware of his wounds when Oikawa tossed him a sickeningly sweet smile, hand lingering on the door.

 

"Oh, and say hi to Iwa-chan for me when you see him."

 

\---

 

"So, let me get this straight." Iwaizumi's brow furrowed as he sat back down. "You take this guy to a regular haunt of yours, where pretty much everyone's seen you go, and you're surprised when your rival finds you there and beats you up?"

 

"I was trying to impress him," grumbled Tetsuro. "Why would I take him to a shithole when I can show him the best cafe in NYC?" He winced a little when the spiky haired male gave his ribs a poke. "Look, I know you're not used to it, but you could at least TRY to be gentle."

 

Iwaizumi only hummed in response. As a recently retired brawler, he'd seen his fair share of injuries. It's what made him such a convenient stand-in for a nurse -- and it was exactly why Tetsuro saw him instead of an actual one. The more off-the-record he could be, the better. Instead of hospital bills, he got a rougher touch and an endless stream of criticism.

 

"It's just a couple of bruises," the ex-brawler dismissed. "You'll probably just be sporting that shiner for a few days. Hope that boy's not just into you for your looks."

 

"Nah." Tetsuro smirked. "I lured him in with the thrill of my cutthroat lifestyle. Didn't you know? He's an adrenaline junkie."

 

Iwaizumi's eyebrow gave an unamused twitch. Tough crowd. "I just hope you know what you're doing," was all he said. "He looks pretty green. If you're not careful you could ruin him, you know."

 

"Oh please -- careful's my middle name. Tadashi'll be fine."

 

Before he could see how Iwaizumi's annoyance manifested itself this time, Tetsuro felt a hand land on his shoulder with a loud clap.

 

"Oooh! You tellin' Zumi about the fool you destroyed this time?" Tetsuro hardly even noticed the ice pack the newcomer pressed into his stomach. Hearing the ever familiar excitement in Bokuto Koutarou's voice, seeing the anticipation alighting gold eyes he knew too well was enough to make the drug lord grin.

 

"Uh...define 'destroy'," he said. The groan he got in response was enough to prompt a follow up statement, eager to keep his golden image fresh in his friend's mind. "Hey, hey, you think this is bad? You should see the other guy."

 

"Really? Looks like you picked a fight with a brick wall," said Iwaizumi. He showed Tetsuro the fingers he'd just finished bandaging -- fractured from trying to punch that tank of a man.

 

"I mean, that's not far from the truth. Oikawa's little guard dog could pass for a pile of bricks any day."

 

"Ushijima Wakatoshi?" The ex-brawler's eyebrows rose. He seemed to age a couple years more when he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of COURSE you'd fight a guy like that. Professionally trained mercenaries are gonna put more than a dent in you."

 

"Awww, Tetsuro doesn't care about that stuff!" Bokuto plopped himself down in Iwaizumi's lap, arm draping itself across his shoulders like it was just used to being there. "He's always been an underdog! Or, hmm, cat? Yeah, he's like everyone's favourite alley cat! Always lands on his feet!"

 

"Thank you, Bo," said Tetsuro, words loaded with his gratitude. "Nice to know someone here believes in me." Iwaizumi could only give an annoyed grunt, though he seemed more occupied with wrapping his arm around the other's waist. His grouchy edge always seemed to dull around his boyfriend.

 

"Well." Tetsuro stood up, not too eager to be a third wheel for much longer. He pulled his shirt back on after setting the ice pack on the table. "I'm gonna walk around, since the doctor hasn't sentenced me to a lifetime in bed."

 

"Oh, that Tadashi kid should be in the living room, by the way!" chirped Bokuto. "He's been admiring our wall of fame for a while. I think he's impressed, yeah?"

 

"Of course he is; he's in the house of NYC's two strongest brawlers." The drug lord watched as Bokuto beamed at the compliment while Iwaizumi just hummed. Damn, retirement had mellowed the guy out a bit.

 

"Take your ice pack with you!" Iwaizumi barked as Tetsuro turned to the door. "It's for your eye, idiot." With a snicker, the drug lord swiped said pack before slipping off.

 

"Yes, Mom."

 

Sure enough, Tadashi could be found in the living room. The journalist had taken off his leather jacket, tanned freckled arms standing out against the white and red of his striped tee. Tetsuro always thought that shirt was pretty tacky, but it seemed to work on the kid. Maybe it would work better if he wasn't squinting at a plaque on the wall with his arms crossed.

 

"Need some help?" Tadashi seemed to jump a little at the sound of his voice, only to relax a little when he saw the drug lord. A soft smile teased itself onto his freckled face.

 

"Considering you only have one eye available, I don't know how much help you'd be." 

 

Was that...banter? Tetsuro blinked in surprise. Granted, it was really cute banter, but it was banter nonetheless.

 

"Ohoho, don't be so quick to judge. If you combine our abilities in this moment, I'm pretty sure you could get a near-legally blind person."

 

The gentle laugh he got in response was enough to put something of a warm and fuzzy feeling in Tetsuro's stomach. Tadashi seemed to be doing okay -- he hadn't been physically hurt, since the impact with Ushijima's hand was only strong enough to snap his glasses in half -- but even so...

 

"Hey, I'm sorry for what happened back there." Brown eyes returned to looking at the drug lord, which only made him feel a tad more guilty. "With the whole, being interrupted thing. I swear it doesn't happen too often. Usually."

 

Tadashi shook his head. "No no, really, it's okay! I mean, I can't say that I'm used to it..." He tilted his head a little to the side, the point emphasised by a shrug of his shoulders. When his gaze returned to Tetsuro though he offered him a soft smile. "But, maybe that's a good thing? I mean, there are some journalists risking their lives for stories too, so...this seems like good training."

 

"You're really dedicated to this writing gig," sighed the drug lord. "How'm I supposed to talk you into joining my gang?" That got him another giggle, one of the most rewarding things he's stumbled upon, paired with a soft shrug.

 

"I'm not sure I'd be a good addition to the system you've got set up here. Besides, I've been told that I'm good at what I do, so..."

 

"I guess that means I'll have to read your article, too; see if it's all you crack it up to be." He shot Tadashi a wink with his good eye after seeing the way the journalist froze up a little. "You are writing for the public, after all."

 

"Right," mumbled the freckled boy. Something seemed to settle into his shoulders, an unfamiliar weight as he looked back at the trophies. The shine of gold and silver stood out against the contrast of a dark blue wall, giving them a bigger air then usual. In the silence that followed the drug lord set his ice pack down, stretching a tired arm. The frozen clink against the wooden table made his companion steal a glance at him.

 

"Are...are YOU okay?"

 

Now it was Tetsuro's turn to be startled. Looking at Tadashi, he was met with a gaze full of concern. It had been a while since anyone had asked him that, realised the drug lord. One of the side effects of being an underground power figure, he supposed. Though, the unexpected worry wasn't unwelcome.

 

"Me?" Tetsuro scoffed. "Trust me, I've picked myself up after worse scraps. That was child's play." It definitely felt like Ushijima was holding back. "I'll be fine after a few days, even if the black eye sullies my ruggedly handsome charm. Whaddya think, still good?"

 

This last part was emphasised with a dire sigh as the drug lord pushed his bangs back to reveal the bruised eyes. He arched an eyebrow in Tadashi's direction, who hummed a little.

 

"Let me see..."

 

Before he knew what was happening, warm hands cupped his cheeks. As Tadashi's eyes relaxed from their thoughtful squint he swore he could see a twinkle of mirth. He couldn't even begin to wonder if he'd rubbed off on the other already, though -- being in such close proximity was giving his heart a surprised splutter in his chest. He could map out all the freckles across the journalist's face, how they followed the dip where Tadashi bit his lip in thought. Those lips looked incredibly soft this close. Eventually they curled into a smile, a devious dimple showing up among those tantalising freckles.

 

"I think you'll be alright."

 

The pat to his cheek that accompanied this statement brought Tetsuro's gaze back up to Tadashi's eyes. Shit, had he been staring? He'd definitely been staring. An unfamiliar warmth crept to his cheeks as he noticed the amused crinkle under the journalist's eyes.

 

"Yeah?" breathed the drug lord. "You're sure?" Tadashi gave a soft nod. He seemed to be enjoying this, seeing as he hadn't let go yet.

 

"Oh, definitely. Actually...I dunno, I think it adds character, you know?"

 

The drug lord could only hum in response. Wit seemed to desert him in that living room, leaving him only with a buzz that felt...strangely nostalgic-

 

"Ohhhhkay!" A hand shot out in front of Tetsuro's eyes, cutting through the tension with a clear slice that tore Tadashi's hands from the other's face. "Look man, you know I hate to throw off your groove like this buuuuut Zumi said you two should probably be going soon."

 

Tetsuro's attention was brought to the world's most effective cockblock, who more commonly went by Bokuto, as the brawler glanced between the two. The white haired male gave his friend an apologetic shrug. "Sorry; there's a brawl tonight and, you know, can't have people at the house if we're not there, sooo..."

 

"Right." Tetsuro's voice cracked a little as he stood straight again, recovering from his unexpectedly flustered state. "Right, yeah, no problem. Let me, uh, get my things--"

 

"A brawl?" Tadashi echoed curiously. "Oh! That would make sense, given the--"

 

"Trophies? Yeahhhh. Don't know if you heard, but Zumi and I are kind of a big deal down there. Up until recently he was Ukai's golden boy!" Bokuto's eyes lit up in a familiar manner. "Hey, you're a journalist, right? You could write about us!!"

 

The brawler draped an arm around the surprised journalist's shoulders.

 

"Okayokayokay, how about this for a headline." A hand swept across the air, bringing substance to his fantasy. "'Bokuto Koutarou: Brazen Brawler With A Heart of Gold'. Pretty good, right? I could tell you all about how I got to where I am, and with the tournament coming up people are gonna be DYING to read about me!! 'The Humble Beginnings Of The Brightest Champion In Years'. 'See How The Ambitious Flame Was Born!'"

 

"That's a lot of headlines for a win that's not even guaranteed," said Tetsuro, making Bokuto give a dramatic groan.

 

"Come onnnn, I'm SO going to win! Like, Ukai might as well give me the belt now, you know? They give the winner a belt and engrave their name in the back of the buckle! Zumi's is on there a lot. Oh! Why don't you guys come with us? I'm not fighting tonight, but you really should get a taste for the atmosphere if you're gonna be writing about it."

 

Excited golden eyes flitted from Tadashi to Tetsuro, who in turn looked to Tadashi. The journalist, understandably overwhelmed, gave a meek sort of smile.

 

"Well, I've...never seen a brawl before. It could be fun, right?"

 

"That settles it, then," said the drug lord. He crossed his arms, grinning. It had been a while since he'd been down to the ring, anyways. "Let's go see ourselves a New York City brawl."


End file.
